


Unsettling Times

by zathara001



Series: Changing Times [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Other, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zathara001/pseuds/zathara001
Summary: When Spock and Uhura start acting strangely - taking a sick day? together? - Jim tries to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: So apparently these stories are not going to come to me in any kind of chronological order. I'll make a note at the start of each one as to when it takes place - this one takes place early in the five-year mission (therefore, a couple of years after Unquiet Times).
> 
> While it's not explicit, this is a pon farr fic, and that means that mature themes and situations are most definitely included.
> 
> As always, all rights in this work are hereby given to Paramount and the others who own Star Trek.

James T. Kirk sipped a cup of coffee while he looked over the report from gamma shift - still on course for the Tau Epsilon system and a ceremonial wedding between the king of Tau Epsilon VI (Ha'er'et'zek, Jim reminded himself) and the heiress to the Tau Epsilon VIII (Lemektera) corporate empire. It was the exact kind of uneventful mission that sometimes made Jim, in the deepest privacy of his mind, think maybe he should have stayed in Iowa.

 

The whoosh of the turbolift door opening made him glance up to see Spock and Uhura coming onto the bridge for their shift.

 

Jim started to greet them, pursed his lips when he saw that while Spock's expression was as neutral as ever, Uhura looked pensive.

 

 _Trouble at home?_ Jim wondered, but put the thought aside before he could act on it - even if that acting was as simple as opening up the bond he shared with Spock to get a read on the emotions his first officer controlled so carefully. As long as their performance didn't suffer, their private troubles were none of his business.

 

So he nodded to them instead and turned back to the datapad in his lap, re-reading the draft of the speech he had to give at the wedding. The king of Ha'er'et'zek had requested a Federation speaker at the wedding because it was the diplomatic overtures of a Federation representative that had opened the doors of friendship between the two worlds years before.

 

That representative had been Christopher Pike, and since Pike was an admiral now and could occasionally deflect duties he didn't particularly appreciate onto lower-ranking personnel, he'd offered the _Enterprise_ , "captained by my best student, my protégé, James T. Kirk," in his stead.

 

So now Jim had to deliver a speech praising people he didn't know for traits he wasn't sure they had.

 

"You know," Pike told him when he called to give Jim the orders, "bullshit. You were pretty good at it during your Academy days. Still are, if some of the reports you've filed are anything to judge by."

 

So Jim gave an internal sigh and set to work on his speech. Some time later, satisfied that he'd made at least a reasonable effort at a draft, Jim sent the draft to Uhura with a request for her thoughts and suggestions regarding any nuances he might have missed.

 

Then it was time to turn to the other, more routine duties he faced … and hated. The trouble with being a genius was that he was easily bored and being a starship captain meant he faced long stretches of boredom as they traveled.

 

Jim had grown accustomed to the boredom, though, because the alternative was a desk job, and even if his counterpart hadn't told him never to take a desk job, Jim knew he'd be climbing the walls within a week if he did.

 

At least here on the _Enterprise_ , he could alleviate the boredom by visiting other departments and helping out with their duties on occasion, and today he chose to do just that.

 

"You have the conn, Mr. Spock."

 

"Aye, Captain."

 

*

 

An hour later, Jim was up to his elbows in a broken replicator, making mental notes about the substandard parts that had somehow found their way onto the Federation's flagship. That was one report to Starfleet that he was looking forward to writing. It wasn't often he got to say what he really thought, but when it came to his crew's satisfaction and well-being, he told the truth in the plainest terms possible.

 

His communicator beeped, and he straightened from where he bent over the workbench to answer it.

 

"Kirk here."

 

Uhura's voice answered him. "I have suggestions for your speech whenever you're ready."

 

Jim glanced down at the replicator. "Half an hour."

 

"Aye, sir."

 

*

 

When Jim stepped back onto the bridge, he nodded to Spock and turned toward Uhura's station.

 

"So how badly did I mess up the speech?" Jim asked with a grin.

 

"My instructors at the Academy would've given you a B minus," she said. "Not bad, but can use improvement."

 

"What can we improve before we get to Tau Epsilon tomorrow?"

 

Jim sat down beside her and set to work, discussing specific words and nuances of meaning that would've had his head spinning if anyone else but Uhura had tried to explain them.

 

"It is time for the mid-day meal."

 

Jim looked up to see Spock standing - no, not just standing; he was _looming_ \- over where he sat next to Uhura, the revised draft of his wedding speech on the screen between them.

 

"Sure," Jim said easily. "We're almost done here, right, Lieutenant?"

 

But Uhura was already rising from her chair. "We can finish after lunch, Captain."

 

Jim opened his mouth to protest, but something in the look she gave him made him close it again. Then she was walking with Spock to the turbolift and Jim was wondering what the hell was going on.

 

*

 

The question of his first officer's and communications officer's odd behavior occupied Jim the rest of his shift, even though nothing else unusual happened.

 

Still, there was a hint of concern that wouldn't leave him alone, especially not after he reached down the bond toward Spock, only to find that Spock had shielded against him.

 

Jim frowned. Spock rarely shielded unless he and Uhura were having private time together. Jim had told them both that he didn't pay attention during those times, but since Uhura had found out about their bond, Spock had made an effort to shield during sex. Jim didn't want to think about what it meant that Spock could concentrate enough to maintain a telepathic shield while in the middle of sex.

 

But the presence of the shield now, when Spock and Uhura were both on the bridge as far from having sex as it was possible to get, raised Jim's concern just more than idle curiosity to what the heck is going on?

 

So when alpha shift ended, Jim made it a point to be in the turbolift with Spock and Uhura.

 

"Dinner tonight?" he asked as casually as he knew how.

 

"Negative," Spock said, his tone flat.

 

Uhura smiled, but to Jim it seemed forced. "Date night."

 

"I'll stay out of my cabin for a while, then," Jim said. Not that any distance he could put between them on the ship would affect what he felt through the bond, but it was the only offer of privacy he could give them.

 

"Thanks." Uhura's smile seemed a little more normal, and Jim nodded a good night to them when they left the turbolift at deck two.

 

*

 

When Jim beamed back aboard the _Enterprise_ after the wedding the next day, alpha shift hadn't quite ended, so he made his way to the bridge. He might as well get started on his report to Starfleet - starting it as a message to Pike.

 

Jim would have to revise the message before he submitted it, because he doubted the Admiralty would appreciate a report that began, Dear Admiral Pike, I understand now why you didn't want to attend the wedding on Ha'er'et'zek. Your wife would've killed you before the first orgy finished. Maybe before it began.

 

If Pike had even known about the orgies.

 

The turbolift doors slid open and Jim stepped onto the bridge. "Status report, Mr. Spo-"

 

He broke off when he saw Hikaru Sulu in the center seat. He glanced to his left, but the science station was vacant … and so was communications.

 

"Where's Spock?" he asked as Sulu rose from the chair.

 

"He took a sick day."

 

Jim blinked. Again. "Spock. Took a sick day?"

 

"Yes, sir," Sulu answered, his expression neutral.

 

"Uhura, too?"

 

Sulu nodded.

 

Maybe because he'd just watched a day-long orgy, Jim's first thought was that he'd never expect Spock to take a sick day just to get some.

 

Then he shoved that thought down. Spock _wouldn't_ take a sick day just to get some. Therefore, something was wrong with him. Jim made a mental note to look in on him after his shift was over and focused on Sulu.

 

"Then, status report, Mr. Sulu."

 

"Situation normal, Captain," Sulu replied.

 

Jim nodded. He hadn't expected anything else, but he had already learned that expectations and reality only occasionally coincided.

 

He took the center seat and pulled a datapad from the armrest.

 

_Dear Admiral Pike…_

 

*

 

Jim rose when his beta shift relief arrived, and only when her gaze shifted from all business to appreciation did he realize that he was still wearing his dress uniform. He gave a mental shrug and a verbal status report, wished the crew a good night and started for the turbolift.

 

Spock's quarters were on the way to his, and Jim paused. Whatever made Spock, of all people, take a sick day must be something serious, and he was shielding it from their bond. Under the circumstances, it was only logical for Jim to hesitate outside Spock's door.

 

Before he could announce himself, the door slid open and Uhura ran out followed by what sounded like a growl.

 

Reflexively, Jim caught her in his arms when she ran into him, steadying them both.

 

The door slid shut. Jim stared at it for a moment, then realized Uhura was shaking - no, she was crying.

 

"Lieutenant?" Jim asked. Then, when she didn't respond, "Nyota?"

 

She still didn't respond, but Jim knew she wouldn't want anyone else to see her like this. She probably didn't even want him to see her like this, he mused, but he had. The least he could do was minimize her embarrassment.

 

He guided her the short distance to his own quarters. She didn't resist, just clung to him more tightly once they were alone. He could feel the tears soaking through his dress shirt, and he could only hold her, rubbing her back to offer what comfort he could.

 

Jim had no idea how long he held her, but finally her tears subsided.

 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

 

"It's Spock," she said.

 

"Sulu said he's sick?"

 

"Very," Uhura confirmed. Then she looked at him. "You didn't know through your bond?"

 

"He's been shielding me the last couple of days. That's when it started, right?"

 

She nodded.

 

"What's wrong?" Jim repeated.

 

"If you don't know…" she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Captain, but it's not my place to tell you."

 

"Your _place_?" Jim repeated, caught somewhere between shock and anger at her tone and her choice of words.

 

"Not my right," she corrected. "He'll tell you if he wants to - or if you can pry it out of him."

 

Jim started to press her, but something in her eyes stopped him.

 

 _She's grieving_ , he thought. _Why?_

 

She wiped her eyes and met his gaze without flinching. "Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder. I'll be back on shift tomorrow."

 

Uhura brushed past him, but before she got to the door, he said. "One thing. I heard him shouting. What did he say?"

 

She didn't turn to look at him. "He said I couldn't help and that I should get out and leave him alone."

 

The ache in her voice made his heart clench. "I'm sorry."

 

"I am, too."

 

Then she was gone, and Jim was wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.

 

The first step seemed obvious. He focused on the link he shared with Spock, sent a concerned, _Are you all right?_

 

There was no response.

 

_Dammit._

 

He yanked off his dress shirt, tossed it in the general direction of the 'fresher, and grabbed a clean undershirt.

 

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he was out the door of his quarters and ringing the chime at Spock's door.

 

When there was no response, he rang the chime again. And again. A fourth time, and he asked, "Spock?"

 

A human wouldn't hear him through the door, but a Vulcan - even a half-Vulcan - would.

 

Still, there was no answer.

 

Jim supposed he should take that as a sign that Spock truly did want to be left alone. Then again, Spock never left him alone when he thought he wanted to be. Turnabout was fair play, and all that.

 

Jim punched in his override code, and the door slid open. Heat - a solid 45C, if he were any judge - blasted into him, and he could only give thanks that temperature was the only part of the ship's environmental systems under individual crew control.

 

He stepped inside quickly, let the door slide shut behind him. It wasn't the first time he'd been in Spock's quarters - they alternated their weekly chess games between Spock's quarters, his quarters, and the rec room - but today it felt _significant_ , somehow, in a way he couldn't explain.

 

He listened for a moment, but heard nothing, not even the sound of breathing. "Spock?"

 

The words that answered him were a snarl. "You should not be here."

 

"Where else should I be?" Jim asked, and then added, for good measure, " _T'hy'la?_ "

 

He'd only known the word a few months, and he was still learning all that it actually meant - friend, brother, lover, closer-than-kin - but maybe the reminder of who and what they were to each other might persuade Spock to open up to him.

 

He held onto that thought until the snarl became a growl, a literal _growl_ that Jim would never have thought could come from humanoid vocal cords.

 

Almost before he could recognize what was happening, Spock tore from the back room - the sleeping area, Jim knew - and slammed into him, momentum carrying him hard into the wall.

 

The wall that held the replicas of Vulcan weapons.

 

Jim winced at the points of pain in his back, but fought to meet Spock's gaze without flinching otherwise.

 

"You should not be here," Spock repeated, his voice raspy as though no liquid had passed his lips for a week.

 

Jim tried a different tactic. "You're not feeling well. You said Uhura can't help, but maybe I can. If you tell me what's going on."

 

Spock's mouth worked, and for a moment, Jim thought he'd won.

 

Then, "Vulcans do not speak of it."

 

Later, Jim would never know whether it was a moment of inspiration or insanity that led him to press his fingertips to Spock's psi-points and whisper, "Then don't speak."

 

There was that growl again, and then Spock's fingers were on his psi-points, and the link between them sprang fully to life.

 

_It is pon farr._

 

The knowledge didn't come in words so much as an almost overwhelming spike of lust, and Jim couldn't repress a shudder.

 

Shame overlay the lust, and fear, and Jim sent a wordless inquiry for clarification.

 

Shame…that emotions overcome logic. Shame at the raging beast he will become when the fever takes. Shame that anyone knows what will happen.

 

Fear…that he has no mate, and that he will die. Fear for what might happen to Jim and Nyota and Leonard and Montgomery and Hikaru and Pavel when he is no longer there to help them.

 

"Wait," Jim said aloud. "What's this about dying?"

 

"It will happen if I cannot mate."

 

"But - Uhura -" Jim broke off.

 

"She is not my bondmate."

 

"She could be," Jim said. "You told me before that you hadn't bonded with her, not that you didn't want to."

 

"She is not my bondmate now, and now is _pon farr_."

 

_You are my bondmate._

 

The words came clearly through the link, as did the sorrowful acceptance behind the statement. Jim wasn't a telepath, but he'd become accustomed to the bond with Spock and tested that feeling. What the hell was Spock so sorrowful, so accepting of?

 

The answer slammed into him harder than his back had hit the wall. Spock had accepted that Jim had no sexual interest in him, and grieved because that lack ensured his own death.

 

That pissed Jim off, and he made sure that Spock felt it.

 

"D'you really think I'd let you die just because I prefer women?" Jim demanded. "Jesus, Spock - what kind of person, what kind of friend - what kind of _t'hy'la_ \- do you think I am?"

 

_Heterosexual._

 

Jim almost laughed, but the sound came out half strangled, though Spock's hands weren't on his throat.

 

"Not so heterosexual that I'd let you die." And to prove it, Jim leaned forward to kiss him.

 

It was only the second time he'd kissed another male, but Jim knew how to kiss, regardless of who his partner was. Technique turned out to be unnecessary when Spock responded almost instantly, crushing their lips together and sliding his tongue into Jim's mouth.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Some undetermined time later, Spock gave up.

 

Jim felt the shift in Spock's mind just before rough hands shoved him away from where he knelt before Spock. Spock's penis slipped out of his mouth with a moist _pop_.

 

"Thank you, Jim, _t'hy'la_ , for trying." Spock's voice held more sadness than Jim would've believed possible. "But neither of us want this, and it will not soothe the _plak tow_."

 

"How are you still able to talk rationally?" Jim sat back on his heels and looked up at his first officer. "I thought the fever -"

 

He broke off, because Vulcans did not speak of this, and Spock was Vulcan.

 

"Bonded, you feel what I feel, but you are not overwhelmed by it as I am. Forgive me for leaning on your strength."

 

"There's nothing to forgive, Spock." Jim rose and sat next to Spock on the bed. "Whatever I can do to help you through this, I will."

 

Spock made a noise that might have been a laugh. "I appreciate your offer, your attempt. But it is futile."

 

_No._

 

"Yes."

 

"No," Jim repeated, this time aloud. "I didn't accept a no-win scenario with the _Kobayashi Maru_ , or with Nero, and I'm sure as hell not accepting it now. How long?"

 

Spock blinked at him. "How long?"

 

"Before the fever surges." _Before you die._

 

"A few days at best."

 

"Plenty of time." Jim projected confidence with his tone and his mind. "Is there anything we can do to make it easier on you in the meantime?"

 

"Do as you have," Spock replied. "Allow me to lean on your humanity. And I am told meditation sometimes helps."

 

"Is it okay if I leave?"

 

"I would rather you did not." Spock's voice was low and rough, needy in a way Jim doubted he'd ever let anyone else see before.

 

"Then I won't," Jim promised. "I'll be in your front room, and you can meditate, okay?"

 

"Thank you. Your proximity is … helpful."

 

Jim stood and watched Spock shift so he was seated on the bed in a lotus position without bothering to pull on trousers or a robe. Jim might be heterosexual, but still he could admire the elegance of Spock's form, the lithe muscles and the deceptively calm expression.

 

He rested a hand on Spock's bare shoulder for a moment, then turned toward the living area of Spock's quarters, letting the door slide shut behind him.

 

Jim looked around for clothes, found his shirt first, where Spock had literally ripped it off him. It wouldn't have been much use anyway, torn as it was by the weapons when Spock slammed him against the wall - and, damn, why did he have to think of that now? He'd forgotten about the injuries to his back in the immediacy of saving Spock's life, but now there was nothing to distract him from the pain.

 

He winced as he tossed his shirt into a recycler, and then found his trousers under Spock's desk. Bending to get them and pull them on sent pain stabbing through his torso, but there was no way he was going to order a painkiller. He didn't know whether that would interfere with Spock's reliance on their meld, but he wasn't going to risk it. A little pain - he winced as he sat in the chair behind Spock's desk - okay, a fair amount of pain, was a small price to pay to help Spock.

 

Jim started to lean back in the chair, but remembered the bruises and cuts on his back in time. Instead, he simply hit the comm.

 

"Kirk to medbay."

 

The screen came to life, filled with Bones' face. "McCoy here. Something go wrong with chess night?"

 

"No, not chess night. Bones," Jim leaned forward, "I have to ask you something, and you have to promise to keep it confidential. Doctor-patient privilege, whatever."

 

"I'm your friend, Jim. No privilege necessary."

 

"For this, it might be." Jim took a breath. "What do you know about _pon farr_?"

 

Bones' eyes widened. "That's why you're calling from Spock's quarters? What about Uhura?"

 

"It's a long story, and I'm not going to tell it right now," Jim said firmly. "Just tell me what you know about it."

 

"Not much," Bones admitted, but he was looking at something offscreen. "Got about a thirty-second mention in one of my xenobiology classes. But I have access to all the medical references, so I can look it up."

 

"Thanks," Jim said.

 

"You gotta be kidding me," Bones muttered, and focused more intently on something Jim couldn't see.

 

"What?"

 

"Let me check somewhere else… Goddammit."

 

" _What?_ " Jim let impatience color his tone.

 

"There's nothing here." Bones sounded betrayed.

 

"Nothing?" Jim asked.

 

"Not a blasted thing besides shut them up with their mate for four to seven days. Perhaps have a first-aid kit ready when it's over."

 

"Seriously? That's _it?_ "

 

"That's it." Bones made a gesture offscreen that Jim could only assume was rude. Or he was simply turning off whatever station he'd used for research. With Bones, it could be difficult to tell. "What's the point of having an entry at all, if that's all they're going to say?"

 

Spock's words came back to him. "Vulcans don't speak of it. And besides, that probably was enough before …"

 

"Yeah," Bones agreed. "Before."

 

Before Nero and the _Narada_ and the death of an entire planet of Vulcans.

 

"Still," Bones said, "I don't see what the problem is. Just lock him and Uhura up for a few days, and it's all good."

 

"Bones…" Jim broke off. It wasn't his place to reveal more than he had to - but still, he had to save Spock's life, which meant he had to talk to someone who might have an idea how to help.

 

He groaned as the realization hit him. "I'm an idiot."

 

"No argument from me," Bones said.

 

"Thanks," Jim said. "But I have to go."

 

He cut the comm without waiting for a reply, toggled it again. "Kirk to bridge."

 

"Bridge, Ensign Amayeta."

 

"I need to put in a call to New Vulcan," Jim said. He gave the specifics, then sat back to wait, winced as his abraded flesh touched the fabric of Spock's desk chair, and sat forward again.

 

He should go get a first-aid kit and take care of his back - but it was his back, and while Jim was flexible, he wasn't _that_ flexible. And Jim didn't think that at this moment Spock would be able to remain logically Vulcan while treating injuries he'd caused his _t'hy'la_ , even if he hadn't intended to cause them.

 

Despite the pain in his back, Jim had to smile, however briefly, however grimly, when the screen came to life. Not just his counterpart from Nero's universe appeared on the screen, but also Spock's counterpart. That wasn't surprising, Jim thought - like him and his Spock, they were _t'hy'la_. He only hoped they'd be able to help him now.

 

When the greetings were over, Jim fixed the older Spock with a level gaze. "I need to talk about things Vulcans don't talk about. If that's a problem, you might want to leave the room."

 

A hint of amusement showed in the old Vulcan's eyes and, perhaps not so surprisingly, in his expression as well. "There are many things about which Vulcans did not speak. Many of us understand that in these changed circumstances, we have no choice but to speak of them, however distasteful that may be."

 

Changed circumstances. Jim winced internally at the phrase and all the horror it hid. Six billion Vulcans dead, the double handful of thousands of survivors scrambling to make new homes and new lives… Jim shoved all that aside. He had another purpose now.

 

"My apologies for any … disquiet … this conversation may cause." Jim met his gaze in one final concession to his understanding of Vulcan propriety, then got to the point. "Spock's dying."

 

The older men shared a glance, and Kirk's expression tightened. " _Pon farr_?"

 

"Yes."

 

Kirk glanced at Spock. "Earlier than your first time."

 

Spock nodded. "Many things have happened sooner in this timeline than in ours." Then he looked at Jim. "Are you able to come to New Vulcan?"

 

Jim shook his head. "We're on the opposite side of the galaxy. I checked with Bones, and all the medical texts say is lock them away and let them deal with it. Not that blunt, but that's the gist."

 

"That is the preferred solution," Spock said, "after the first _pon farr_ and the _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_."

 

"Yeah, well, preferred solutions have never been our specialty," Kirk said. "What about Lieutenant Uhura? When I was aboard, he said something about her being his intended."

 

"She tried, or I think she did. I found her running out of his quarters. He'd kicked her out because she wasn't his bondmate."

 

"You're bonded to him, aren't you?" Kirk asked.

 

"Yes," Jim answered. "But -"

 

"A _t'hy'la_ bond?" Spock asked.

 

"Yes, but -"

 

"Then what's the problem?" Kirk demanded. "Get yourself some lube and get to it."

 

"The problem is we're both inconveniently heterosexual. And yes," Jim added in anticipation of Kirk's next question, "we tried. Don't ask for details."

 

"We would not," Spock assured him, but the look on Kirk's face suggested he might.

 

"That's why I called you," Jim said. "Because what little there is in the medical references doesn't cover this situation."

 

"I am not aware of such a situation having arisen before," Spock said. "Not in our timeline."

 

"I suspect it'll be more common in this one," Kirk said. "But that doesn't help Spock now."

 

"I am not certain anything can." There was genuine regret in Spock's tone.

 

"No." Jim was surprised that his counterpart echoed the word.

 

Kirk continued, "We're James T. Kirk. We find a way."

 

Jim couldn't help grinning, but it faded quickly. "If he'd just bonded with Uhura, it'd be easy."

 

"It is illogical to regret that which has already happened," Spock reminded him.

 

"It's what's about to happen that I regret," Jim countered. "You're sure there's no comparable situation in your timeline?"

 

"None, Jim," Spock answered. "But I will consult a mind healer for suggestions."

 

"Thanks," Jim said, though he was afraid that would be too little, too late, to help Spock. "It's a shame we can't just combine me and Uhura -"

 

He broke off, startled by the idea that occurred to him. "I'll call you back."

 

Jim cut the connection without waiting for a reply and toggled an internal comm. He could only hope his crazy, probably perverted, idea would work.

 

She answered immediately. "Uhura."

 

"Nyota, it's Jim. He needs you. Will you come?"

 


	3. Chapter 3

Of all the people she could have encountered when she fled Spock's quarters, Nyota was both grateful and embarrassed that it was Captain Kirk she'd barreled into.

 

Grateful because he'd gotten her away from the public areas of the ship and held her while she cried before asking questions. Embarrassed because he was her commanding officer and she'd never forgotten her grandmother's words to her: Never let anyone in power see you sweat. Never let them see you cry.

 

But she'd done just that, and when her tears had passed, Kirk had treated her emotion with respect surprising in a man who'd never met a regulation he didn't believe could be bent, never met a woman - and precious few men - he didn't believe he could charm if he chose to.

 

He'd listened to her, he'd offered his help, and she'd told him what she could. Nyota hoped she'd nudged him into confronting Spock and was now trying to find some way to reconcile the fact that Kirk might be able to give Spock what she couldn't. At the very least, Kirk aroused strong emotions in Spock generally.

 

She'd seen the depths of Spock's anger when Kirk challenged him on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , and it was easy to image Spock's passions running in a more positive direction.

 

Was Kirk seeing that now? Was Spock realizing that he'd been pursuing the wrong person all this time? Was he turning those more positive passions on the captain?

 

That she'd never seen equal amounts of passion or, yes, love from Spock when they'd been together hurt in ways she couldn't begin to describe, and prompted questions that she didn't want to address. Was it - whatever _it_ had really been - over between her and Spock? And if it was, how would she be able to work with him - no, with _them_ \- afterward?

 

 _Save his life first,_ Nyota told herself as she showered away the tears, _then worry about the rest._

 

Now she sat trying to read the latest _Journal of Applied Xenolinguistics_ and, equally importantly, trying _not_ to think about what was going on one deck above her in Spock's quarters. The words blurred on her screen, and she dashed away tears.

 

Her personal comm chimed, and she reached for it without thinking. "Uhura."

 

"Nyota, it's Jim. He needs you. Will you come?"

 

Nyota blinked, surprised by both the tone and the words. It was the first time the captain had identified himself to her by his given name and maybe the first time he'd used hers. But it was also the gentlest he'd ever sounded, and she wondered what that meant.

 

Was he just being kind to her - was he trying to break it to her gently, that he and Spock would be together now?

 

Could Kirk be so cruel as to invite her to the aftermath of their joining, just for Spock to break up with her? That didn't fit either of the men she knew and worked with, she knew. She also knew that _pon farr_ made Vulcans act illogically. Maybe that carried over to humans, too.

 

"Please?"

 

She hadn't realized she'd been quiet so long, and she shook herself from her too-maudlin thoughts.

 

"Of course," she said and was pleased that her tone came out almost bridge-businesslike.

 

There was a soft sound that might have been a sigh of relief, and when he spoke again his tone was more businesslike. "Bring a first-aid kit and don't wear your uniform."

 

"Captain?" Nyota frowned, but she'd heard the quiet _click_ of a disconnection just as she spoke the first syllable.

 

She sat for another minute, controlling her breathing and reminding herself that she was an exemplary officer and linguist, and she could and _would_ get through whatever was coming. Then she rose and considered Kirk's orders.

 

Getting a first-aid kit was simple enough, though it'd require a detour to medbay. But what had he meant by _don't wear your uniform_? Nyota glanced down at the silky gown, not really a negligee, she'd slipped on after her shower.

 

 _Even if that's what_ he's _thinking of,_ I _am not_ _parading through the corridors in my nightgown._

 

Still, her choices for casual wear were limited. She finally settled on a simple blouse and skirt, not sexy but comfortable, and started for medbay.

 

*

 

Even though it was deep into beta shift - maybe even gamma shift; she'd lost track of time - Dr. McCoy was still at his desk. He appeared to be deep in some kind of research, so Nyota slipped past him and found one of the nurses.

 

"What kind of kit do you need?" the nurse, a petite woman with an accent that hinted at Deltan or maybe Betazoid ancestry, asked in response to Nyota's question. "Human, alien? Trauma, infectious disease, other?"

 

"Human." That much was easy. Nyota replayed Kirk's request in her mind. He hadn't been more specific, so she said, "General purpose."

 

"Trauma."

 

The word drawled past her shoulder, and she turned to see McCoy standing there, looking as serious as she'd ever seen him.

 

"Trauma, Doctor?" the nurse asked, disbelief evident in her tone.

 

"You deaf?" McCoy demanded. "Trauma kit. Stat."

 

The nurse scurried away, and McCoy's expression softened as he looked at Nyota.

 

"You okay?" he asked.

 

"It's not for me," Nyota assured him. "It's for the captain."

 

"Like that's reassuring. Come here." McCoy gestured her into his office and closed the door. "Are you aware what you're dealing with?"

 

Nyota's chin lifted. "Are _you_?"

 

The doctor's laugh had a brittle edge to it. "Not as aware as I should be, goddamn Vulcans. But I've got the basics, and it's the basics that scare me."

 

Nyota had to smile. Whatever else might be going on, McCoy's concern was genuine. "Yes, Doctor. I'm aware."

 

He studied her for a long minute, then grabbed a hypo from his desk and reached for her.

 

Nyota took a step back. "What's that?"

 

"Something to help you keep up with Spock."

 

She couldn't tell him that she didn't think she'd need it because Spock's interest was clearly elsewhere. What she could say was, "I keep up with him just fine."

 

"Normally," McCoy corrected. "And please God, no details. But this isn't normal, and you know it."

 

Nyota shifted her wary gaze to him. He was talking as if she were the one Spock would need - but she knew she wasn't. Her lips tightened. "Do you know something I don't?"

 

"Tons. Just like you know tons I don't. Am I gonna have to make it an order?"

 

"No." Nyota endured the sting of the hypospray. "Anything else, Doctor?"

 

McCoy's expression suggested there was a lot _else_ , but he shook his head. "Just…be careful. And good luck."

 

Nyota nodded and stepped out of his office, to be met by the nurse holding a first-aid kit. She took the kit with a smile, and then turned for the exit.

 

*

 

The door to Spock's quarters slid open almost before Nyota's hand fell from the chime.

 

The captain stood there, bare chested, and her breath caught involuntarily. He was attractive - some people might choose words like _devastatingly handsome_ or _rakishly charming_ \- and she'd always known that, however much she refused to give in to it.

 

Thanks to whatever was in that shot McCoy had given her, this was the first time she wanted to give in to it - especially when he smiled at her like he was now, as though she were the most precious thing in his world.

 

His expression was so far from what she'd expected that she faltered for a moment. What if she'd been wrong?

 

"You came," he said simply, and stood aside to let her in.

 

"Of course, Captain -" she began, but he shook his head as the door slid shut behind her.

 

"No," he said firmly, and took the first-aid kit from her to set it on Spock's desk. "This is not for captain and lieutenant and commander. This is for Jim and Nyota and Spock."

 

"Okay," Nyota agreed reluctantly. She could play along with him, at least for now. "But what is _this_?"

 

"This," the captain - Jim - regarded her more seriously, "is a crazy idea that just might save his life. If you're willing."

 

Willing? Of course she was willing, and she let that show in her expression. Still, "I already tried, and you saw the results."

 

"I know you'll probably hate me after, more than you do already, but I think this might be his only chance."

 

"I don't hate you, Ca - Jim," Nyota corrected herself. "I'm just not letting myself be charmed by you." Before he could distract them both with that topic, she added, "But why would I hate you for trying to save his life?"

 

"You'll hate me for how we do it - even if it works."

 

Her attention caught on one word. "We?"

 

"Spock doesn't have a bondmate -"

 

"Doesn't he?" Nyota fixed him with a pointed glare.

 

"Turns out the bond isn't enough." His tone was almost too casual, and Nyota couldn't help wondering just how they'd found that out. "Just like it wasn't enough for his mate to be here without the bond. No offense."

 

Nyota nodded an acknowledgment. What he'd said was simple truth. "If neither of us was enough -"

 

"Maybe _both_ of us will be enough."

 

Nyota could only stare at him. In any other circumstance, she probably would despise him for even suggesting it, but in this circumstance, the suggestion was too damned logical.

 

"You provide the mate," Jim was saying. "I provide the bond."

 

She scowled at his words. "This is some excuse for a weird threesome, isn't it?"

 

" _No._ " His expression turned stricken, then back to serious almost before it registered. "Whatever you think of me otherwise, you know I never pressured you for anything after that first night… and I admit I was drunk, and I was a lot ruder than I should've been. I'm sorry."

 

Nyota blinked at the shift in topic, but before she could ask him to clarify his thoughts, he was speaking again.

 

"All I want to do right now is save his life, Nyota. I don't know what that'll take, but I'm willing to do whatever I need to." He blew out a breath. "If it's reassuring at all, I don't think he'll want me involved, other than as a safety valve."

 

She turned the idea over in her mind, looking for a rational, logical objection. When all she found were emotional objections, shame burned her cheeks. Was she really willing to let Spock die just because she didn't want to - possibly - have sex with Jim Kirk?

 

The answer to that was obvious, and she said simply, "Okay."

 

It was Jim's turn to stare at her. "Okay?"

 

"Okay," she repeated. Then she had to smile, just a little. "What did you expect?"

 

"A slap, or maybe a solid right hook."

 

That made her chuckle, despite the situation. "I'm not ruling those out."

 

"I wouldn't expect you to." He grinned, briefly, before sobering once again. "You're sure?"

 

"I'm sure." Nyota put as much confidence into the words as she could.

 

Jim studied her another moment, and Nyota wondered what he was looking for. Finally, he nodded, once.

 

"Are you ready?"

 

"As I'll ever be."

 

"No, I mean - are you _ready_?"

 

His pointed look conveyed his meaning more clearly than the words, and Nyota felt herself blushing. "I think so. Dr. McCoy gave me something when I went to get the first-aid kit."

 

Jim shook his head. " _I think so_ isn't enough. Not this time."

 

Before she could respond, he turned away from her, and she suddenly understood why he was shirtless. His back was a patchwork of bruises, scrapes, and hairline cuts, like scratches from a cat just deep enough to draw blood. One cut looked deeper than the others, but still wasn't bleeding much.

 

"He didn't intend to do it," Jim was saying, "and it's not that bad. But it could've been."

 

He turned back to face her, and she swallowed back whatever she might have said. No words seemed appropriate, and he didn't appear to want any.

 

"So let's be sure you are ready," he said. "And if you decide it deserves a slap or a right hook, I get it."

 

"What do you -?" Nyota broke off as Jim stepped closer.

 

Moving carefully, meeting her gaze, he slipped a hand up under her skirt, and then past her underwear. His finger slid inside her and withdrew almost before she realized what he'd done. Briefly, she considered that slap, or that right hook, but she couldn't bring herself to follow through with it, not given his serious expression that said he really was concerned for her.

 

Still serious, he said, "This time, I have to listen in."

 

Nyota drew a shaky breath and allowed herself to admit her fear. "This time, I want you to."

 

*

 

Without being prompted, Nyota stripped off her clothes and set them aside. She still wasn't certain the captain's - Jim's - idea would work, but she would try anything that might save Spock's life, even if it might involve sex with Jim Kirk.

 

She supposed she'd forgive him the appreciative look he gave her - eventually - but followed him into the other room without comment. Spock sat naked on his bed, in a pose Nyota had seen him adopt for meditation before, but he'd always worn robes when he meditated.

 

"Spock," Jim said quietly. Then, when Spock didn't react, he raised his voice slightly and spoke again. " _T'hy'la._ "

 

Nyota blinked at the term. It had the sound and the feel of Old High Vulcan, but she'd never heard that specific term before and had no idea what it meant.

 

Whatever it meant, it got Spock's attention. His eyes opened and he leapt from the bed like some great cat, his eyes and expression hungry. Involuntarily, Nyota took a step back.

 

"Mine," Spock snarled. " _My_ mate."

 

Then his hands were at Jim's throat, and Nyota couldn't help seeing them as they had been once before, on the bridge when Spock had tried to kill Jim.

 

This time, with a calm Nyota couldn't comprehend, Jim reached up to touch Spock's psi-points. After a moment, Spock reached for his and appeared to relax his grip on Jim's throat.

 

The two men stayed like that, fingers to temples, bodies pressed together, long enough that Nyota almost backed out of the room and left them to it.

 

Then Jim dropped his hand.

 

"Yours," he said, and took a step back, away from Spock.

 

Spock followed, caught Jim's head with one hand and kissed him with a passion Nyota only rarely saw herself. She swallowed back tears once more.

 

 _This was a mistake, I knew it, I shouldn't have come here. They don't need me._ He _doesn't need me._

 

"Mine," Spock repeated, then flung Jim aside with almost insulting ease before turning to Nyota, and if she'd thought he didn't need her, then the wanting, the longing, in his eyes proved her wrong.

 

Then he was on her, and in her, and she understood exactly why Jim had probed her before bringing her into this room. The Spock she knew and loved was a considerate lover, thorough and patient, but this one was driven by need and want and _now_ and Nyota gasped as he pounded into her.

 

This was Spock, and she loved him - all of him, even this _him_ that she didn't recognize. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and pressed her mouth to his.

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Nyota woke - really woke, as opposed to briefly breaking the surface of sleep - she had no idea what time it was, much less what day it was. Beside her, Spock slept heavily to judge by his breathing, and she wondered if the _plak tow_ had finally passed.

 

If not, she'd have to get another hypo from Dr. McCoy.

 

"Hey." The quiet greeting made her look to the doorway. Jim stood there, still in the same trousers he'd worn when he greeted her at the door. "You okay?"

 

Nyota reviewed her body, checking for any complaints it might have. "Tired, sore, thirsty."

 

Jim nodded and came into the room. Nyota vague memories of him doing that once or twice before, and of Spock growling at him for his effort. The first time, he'd thrown Jim against the wall hard enough that the impact echoed. "Should you be here?"

 

"It's over," he told her.

 

She tamped down the relief that swept through her at his words, forced herself to ask, "You're sure?"

 

"Yep."

 

He sounded too casual to be so certain, and she couldn't help the suspicion in her tone. "How do you know?"

 

Jim grinned at her. "Because I don't want to sleep with you." Her eyebrows flew up, and he ducked his head. "Okay, no more than usual. C'mere."

 

Nyota took his outstretched hand mostly out of reflexive courtesy, and then was glad she had the extra leverage when her legs didn't want to respond to her commands.

 

"It's okay," Jim said. "I've got you."

 

He leaned over Spock's still form and caught her under the arms, hefting her towards him with more ease than she would have expected. She smiled her thanks and got her feet under her - only to almost collapse when she tried to put weight on them. Fortunately, Jim caught her before she fell.

 

"Tired," she said again, her throat sore and her voice raspy as though she'd spent a whole day talking or cheering.

 

 _Or screaming in ecstasy_. She felt herself flushing, gave thanks that her darker skin would conceal it at least a little.

 

"Shower?" Jim asked.

 

"Oh, please, _yes_." The words were out before she thought. "But a drink of water first?"

 

"Sure. Hang on."

 

Before she could ask what she was supposed to hang on to, Jim swung her up into his arms, bridal-style.

 

"Put me down!" Nyota ordered in a whisper, though a glance back at Spock told her he still slept. He never slept that soundly, ever.

 

"Not yet." Jim carried her to the 'fresher, where he sat her on the bench in the shower. He disappeared, only to return moments later with a glass of water. "Drink up."

 

"I don't need to be babied," she said, but took the glass and drank anyway.

 

"Everybody needs to be babied sometimes," Jim countered. "And after that … marathon, I think you need it more than you want to admit."

 

Nyota started to object again, then remembered that he'd listened in through his bond with Spock, and he probably wouldn't believe her if she protested. Then again, she wasn't certain she believed herself.

 

"Okay," she said finally, and handed him back the empty glass.

 

"In the spirit of not babying you, I'll be outside when you're done."

 

Nyota nodded. Then something prompted her to ask, "What about Spock?"

 

"He's out. Thoroughly out," Jim amended. "According to my sources, that's normal after _pon farr_ , and we shouldn't worry unless he sleeps more than a day."

 

Nyota blinked. A day? And what sources did Jim have about _pon farr_ , of all things? She decided she'd rather not ask.

 

Jim stepped outside and she reached out to turn on the shower. For a moment, she wished it were a real hot-water shower, however impractical those were in space. Then she blew out a breath, and the wish with it, and rose carefully to her feet.

 

Sonic waves didn't encourage lingering the way hot water did, so it was only a few minutes before Nyota turned off the shower. She'd lingered long enough, or been distracted enough, that she hadn't noticed Jim come in - but he must have, given that her clothes and a comb rested on the vanity.

 

She dressed quickly and ran the comb through her hair before she stepped back into the bedroom.

 

As he'd promised, Jim waited outside the 'fresher. Nyota was grateful for the arm he offered for the short walk into the outer room. She sank down onto the couch and was only partly surprised when Jim pulled out a tricorder to run it over her.

 

"I'm fine," she said.

 

"I believe you."

 

"But you're still using that."

 

"Bones would kill me if I didn't." Then he was setting the tricorder aside and reaching for something in the first-aid kit.

 

She winced when she saw the hypo in his hand. "What's that?"

 

"Just vitamins. You haven't eaten in two days."

 

The shock those words brought overcame her resistance to the hypospray. "Two days?"

 

"Hungry?"

 

Her stomach growled lightly. "I wasn't until you asked."

 

Jim chuckled and rose to turn to the replicator. Nyota caught a glimpse of his back again. Why hadn't the scratches and bruises been treated? Then she remembered, and shame flushed her cheeks again. Of course they hadn't been treated - he'd been making sure she wasn't inadvertently hurt.

 

Jim returned with bowls of what looked like vegetable soup. She took the one he offered, but set it aside. "Let's take care of your back, first."

 

Her tone was businesslike enough that he didn't argue, just sat with his back to her while she ran the dermal regenerator over the patchwork of injuries.

 

"Thanks," he said when she was done, and for a time they ate in silence.

 

"What now?" Nyota asked finally.

 

"Now, we wait for him to wake up." Jim hesitated before adding, "I can wait, if you'd rather go."

 

"I've missed two shifts -" she began, but he shook his head.

 

"Bones has all three of us on medical leave. You're good. I just don't know how you feel about him, me, all of this."

 

"I don't know, either," she admitted. "But I'd be a lousy girlfriend if I didn't wait with you."

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

When Spock woke, the first thing he became aware of was that the fever had gone. His first _pon farr_ had come and gone and, despite all logic, he was somehow still alive.

 

Spock reviewed his memories, only somewhat surprised to find he had very few of them. The one time his father had broached the subject to him, Sarek had said that all logic was stripped away. Spock hadn't realized that his memories would be stripped away in the fire of the _plak tow_ , as well.

 

The last thing he remembered clearly was asking Jim to stay, so that he could lean on Jim's strength. He had a less distinct memory of Jim returning to his bedroom, and the vaguest impression that Jim hadn't been alone at the time.

 

That impression required investigation - but not, perhaps, until after he had washed away the effects and evidence of what he'd gone through. Spock rose from his bed, removed the sheets and put them into the fabric 'fresher, before stepping into the sonic shower.

 

When he emerged a few minutes later, he pulled on his robes and crossed on bare feet from the 'fresher through his sleeping room and into the living area. He paused when he saw not just Jim but also Nyota on his sofa, leaning against each other in sleep.

 

Well, Nyota slept, he amended. Jim was looking at him through half-lidded eyes. After a moment in which Spock felt Jim fully waking up through their bond, Jim shifted out from under Nyota, lowering her head gently onto the seat of the sofa before rising and crossing the few steps to stand in front of Spock.

 

Spock endured Jim's scrutiny, braced himself against the questions he knew were coming. Then Jim grinned as though he'd heard that thought and said, "Better?"

 

"I am alive," Spock said, "and that is more than I expected. Therefore, the answer to your query is yes."

 

"And back to your usual self." Jim chuckled softly, and Spock felt his relief, even joy, through their bond.

 

"Jim -" Spock began, then broke off.

 

"Yes, Spock?"

 

"I do not remember what happened," he admitted. "Did I -"

 

"No. You didn't."

 

Spock raised one eyebrow, unwillingly amused by Jim's certainty. "I did not what?"

 

"Do anything that would cause you concern. You can check, if you want."

 

Although he trusted Jim implicitly, Spock found himself reaching for Jim's psi-points without words.

 

Spock would never admit the relief that filled him when Jim's mind welcomed him as though nothing untoward had happened, even though something untoward most definitely had. Several somethings, in fact - Spock fought down momentary self-loathing at the memory of slamming Jim into the wall bearing Vulcan weapons so hard that several weapons had fallen from their mounts.

 

Then there was an external view of Spock ravaging Nyota when Jim came in, not once but twice, to force a mind-meld and calm Spock's urge to claim his mate when his ardor threatened to injure Nyota. Spock had lashed out the first time, catching Jim unprepared and bruising his ribs, before Jim's fingers landed on his psi-points and the mating urge receded somewhat. The second time, Jim came in before Spock had reached that too-primal point.

 

Spock was grateful that despite those moments, Jim bore no animosity toward Spock. He was more grateful that Jim had stayed through it all, and then taken care of Nyota afterward.

 

Spock let the link convey his gratitude, and was surprised when Jim reached out to pull him into a hug. Spock resisted initially, but only for a fraction of a heartbeat. This was his _t'hy'la_ , his brother in all but blood, his closer-than-friend, and if his _t'hy'la_ wanted or needed a hug, it was the least Spock would do for him.

 

"Glad you're still with us," Jim said, and released Spock from his grasp. "Next time, we'll plan for it."

 

Spock blinked, and Jim grinned. "Yes, next time. I've got seven years to rack up all the favors I might need to call in to get the three of us together again."

 

Spock allowed exasperated affection to bleed down their bond, and was rewarded by a bigger grin. Jim clapped his shoulder, then strode into the sleeping area, to return a moment later, pulling a black undershirt over his head.

 

Jim slid his feet into his boots. "Bones has us on medical leave for another day. Take it if you need it, and be sure she does, too."

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You are not staying?"

 

"She doesn't want me to. And the two of you need time to … you need time."

 

Spock reviewed Jim's words. "Do we not need time, _t'hy'la_?"

 

Jim chuckled. "No. I get it - at least enough. And you and I are not like you and her." He paused, then said, "Maybe I should've said she needs time."

 

Then Jim knelt beside Nyota, shifting her head on the pillow so she'd be more comfortable. He was sober when he stood. "She's a keeper, Spock."

 

Though he objected to the term, Spock had to agree with the sentiment. "I am aware."

 

"Make sure she knows you're aware."

 

*

 

Spock sat with Nyota, not truly meditating but not fully alert, either, simply stroking her hair where her head lay in his lap. He knew that position would be comfortable for her, or at least that she'd never suggested otherwise during the many nights they spent that way listening to music or a lecture that one or the other of them found stimulating.

 

Tonight - for it was night, according to the ship's chronometer - he let the rhythmic motion of stroking her hair lull him into a relaxed state where his thoughts never completely rested, as they did in meditation, but they did slow to a more leisurely pace.

 

Jim's words before he'd left ran through his mind on a continuous, if illogical, loop.

 

_She needs time. Make sure she knows you're aware._

 

The first words still made no sense - what did Nyota need time for? - but the second… Spock was certain Nyota knew her importance to him, but he could and would reassure her if she needed it.

 

Some time later, Nyota stirred under his touch, and he looked down to see her blinking tiredly at him. Her gaze focused, and she smiled.

 

"Spock."

 

He didn't stop stroking her hair. "Nyota."

 

"Are you …?"

 

"The _plak tow_ has passed. I am myself again." He paused, then forced himself to ask the question he'd thought he'd answered by looking at Jim's memories. "Did I hurt you?"

 

"No," she answered immediately. "Not the way you mean. It was rough, sure, but … No. Nothing serious, nothing permanent."

 

"I am gratified to hear that." Spock paused again, unsure how to proceed.

 

She glanced around the room. "Where's Jim?"

 

"He left shortly after I woke." Spock noted her use of his given name and wondered what it meant. "He said you did not want him to stay."

 

She chuckled briefly. "The awkward part's already over. Him staying for this is nothing."

 

"The … awkward part?"

 

"The part where we were both with you."

 

"But he only entered the room twice."

 

"He was here. And we were…" Nyota shook her head. "It's illogical, and I know it, but I keep feeling like I should have been enough, that he shouldn't have had to be here."

 

"Nyota -" Spock began, but hesitated. Despite his time with humans in general, and this one in particular, and his bond with one, he still could not analyze and parse their emotions logically.

 

"I know it didn't work with just me because I'm psi-null," she continued. "But I still feel that it should have, somehow."

 

He had learned one thing about Nyota - it was always better to say something, to acknowledge her words than not to speak and risk making an uncomfortable situation worse. This time, he had to be honest. "I don't know what to say."

 

"I don't know there's anything you can say. I have to learn to accept that I'm not enough for you, that I can't help you when you need it most."

 

"I disagree," Spock said. "You have helped me, often. Many times the fact that you are psi-null has been the larger part of it."

 

"Really?" She gave him a dubious expression.

 

"Vulcans do not lie," Spock assured her, but she appeared to need more, so he sought the words that might help her. "When we touch, your emotions do not overwhelm me. You are a place of rest for me, for which I am grateful."

 

"But these last few days, you needed more. You needed him."

 

"I needed emotions that matched my own." There was no point denying it. That she'd raised the issue, however, suggested there was more to her statement than first appeared. "Does that trouble you? I know your first meeting with the captain was less than pleasurable, but you have worked together well enough since he took command."

 

"I thought… after it didn't work when we tried without him, I thought you needed him," she said. "And not just as … as … whatever he was for us. I thought you needed him the way I wanted you to need me."

 

"I thought perhaps I did, too," Spock admitted. "It wasn't until we, too, failed as you and I had failed that I knew differently, and I resigned myself to death."

 

"I knew it," Nyota declared. "The threesome was his idea."

 

"It would not have occurred to me - it did not occur to me. Vulcans mate for life," Spock explained, though he was certain Nyota knew that already.

 

"I get it - and I'm glad we saved your life. But I'll bet he's getting off on it right now."

 

Spock opened his mouth to tell her she had misapprehended the situation - he knew from the bond that Jim was not, in fact, _getting off_ on a threesome fantasy at the moment - but something in her expression stopped him.

 

After a moment, he said, "I trust if this has changed your opinion of me, you will tell me."

 

Nyota blinked at him, once, twice. "Changed? In what way?"

 

"If you are not comfortable with this aspect of my nature and what it requires, I will understand."

 

"Spock." Nyota reached out, hesitated before taking his hand. He turned his own, extended two fingers, and was gratified when she touched her fingers to his. The gesture did not, of course, enhance their bond, but it was still intimate in a more subtle way than most human interactions were.

 

After a moment, she spoke again. "I can't say I'm comfortable with it, exactly. But I accept that it's part of you, and if I love you, it's a part I'll have to learn to live with."

 

"My mother could not."

 

Before Spock could be surprised that he'd spoken those words aloud, Nyota was frowning at him.

 

"She couldn't? But ..."

 

"She endured my father's first _pon farr_ , but refused to endure another one." In answer to her unasked question, he added, "There are alternatives. Or there were, on Vulcan. I presume there are or will be alternatives on New Vulcan as well."

 

Her mouth twitched. "I'm sure there are - and I'm equally sure no Vulcan woman could put up with James Tiberius Kirk in that situation."

 

Spock almost told her that Jim wouldn't be necessary if he bonded with another, but some warning in an internal voice that sounded far too much like Jim told him to keep that thought to himself.

 

He was rewarded when Nyota leaned forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with him. "I may not be happy that he's part of our sex life every seven years, but I promise you won't need to go looking for alternatives."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ends "Unsettling Times," the second story in my Changing Times 'verse. I'm currently working on more stories (more meaning at least three or four more.... Trying Times, Uneasy Times, Unexpected Times, Party Time, though not necessarily in that order), and I will post each one as I finish it. I hope you've enjoyed this story and others as they appear!


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